Beyond Those Walls
by FictionFanatic28
Summary: We all know the story of Thomas; the reluctant hero who saved an entire race from the clutches of evil. But what happened during those three years prior to Thomas's arrival in the box ? Told through the eyes of one of our favorite Gladers, learn how Newt, Minho, Alby and many more survived the horrors that lie within the darkness of Wicked's most complex creation ... The Maze.
1. Chapter 1 - The Box

**Chapter 1: The Box**

He awoke to darkness, complete and utter darkness. He didn't even need to open his eyes to know that the world, his world, had been swallowed by the black inkiness of oblivion. Pools of colored light swam behind his closed eyelids and he involuntarily squeezed them tighter, trying to convince himself this was all just a terrible dream. _Just calm down_ , he whispered to himself in the silence. _Calm down_. He could feel his heart racing and moved his hand up to his chest, wrinkling the fabric of his shirt between shaky fingers and trying to postpone the inevitable panic. Beads of sweat trickled down his spine and forehead. He let them slide down the bridge of his nose and fall onto his lips. They tasted salty.

 _Calm down, Calm down, Calm down, Calm down_

He repeated it like a mantra although the effects weren't as calming as he'd hoped. With his eyes still closed, he reached out to his immediate surroundings, fingers stretching out in timid jerks. His left hand connected with something cold and hard that felt similar to a glass jar. It was heavy and he could faintly hear whatever liquid was inside sloshing up and around the edges. He then brushed something soft, a towel or bed linen of some kind? He pulled it to his chin and inhaled. The fabric smelled clean and fresh, its scent conjuring up a faint memory from somewhere that he couldn't quite place. Eyes still closed, his other senses tingled like electricity. Smells engulfed him from all sides; leather, and manure, and something sour. The air tasted stale. Nothing about this felt normal. Suddenly, a flood of unfamiliar sounds jumped out at him. An awful grinding noise, the scrap of metal against metal, the invisible sound of wind rushing by … No, not by but up. Up? He realized with a jolt that he was moving upward. He needed to open his eyes, needed to get a better sense of his surroundings but fear bit at him like a rabid dog.

 _Calm down, Calm down, Calm down, Calm down_

Slowly, he cracked one eyelid. Not surprisingly, he couldn't see anything in any great detail. Every now & then he'd catch a shadow but nothing substantial enough to gain his bearings. How long had he been trapped in this cold metal box? Where was it headed? What waited for him once it finally reached its destination? Was there even a destination or was he going to sit in this elevator type shaft forever? He couldn't piece anything together; couldn't make sense of what was happening. He couldn't even remember how he'd gotten there. With a horrible, gut-wrenching awareness, he realized he couldn't remember anything. Not a single shred of memory came back to him through the haziness. Even the simplest questions went unanswered in his mind. He had no identity. He had no past, at least not that he could remember anyway. He tried to think logically, that maybe due to some traumatic experience, he'd chose to forget everything about a previous life but there was simply nothing for him to grasp onto. Everything had been erased, scrubbed clean like a kitchen countertop. All he had to cling to was the past five, maybe six minutes, of memory after he'd woken up. That crushing panic gripped him again turning his insides out. He started panting, gasping for air. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over at any minute. His legs trembled and his hands shook violently.

 _Calm down, Calm down, Calm down, Calm down_

It wasn't working!

 _Calm down, Calm down, Calm down, Calm down_

Shit!

 _Calm down, Calm down, C … NEWT_

He stopped, his seizing body relaxing suddenly. What was that? It was a word, possibly a memory? He reached back into the caverns of his thoughts.

 _NEWT_

Newt? Was that his name? Didn't sound like much of a name but, for the moment, he clung to it as if it were the only life vest in a massive ocean. He said it out loud this time, his tongue rolling over the syllables. "N-E-W-T"

The more he said it, the more he liked it. It fit him somehow although he didn't know why. Oddly, knowing his name helped ease some of his anxiety; helped give him a purpose. It wasn't much but it was something and it already made him feel stronger, more in control. Stretching his arms out to his sides, he relaxed back into the corner of the box a little knowing, that for the time being, there was nothing he could do except wait. Wait and wonder about what was to come. A few minutes passed and then a few more. Time seemed to drag in this cold, cramped box. The seconds stretched into minutes and the minutes felt like agonizing hours. He waited and wondered until finally … he saw a light.


	2. Chapter 2 - Newt's Arrival

**Chapter 2: Newt's Arrival**

At first, Newt wasn't even sure the light was real. He craned his neck upwards staring at it; just a mere pinprick in the darkness but as the light became closer and grew in size, the box sped up its ascent. Newt could feel the box gaining speed, climbing more frantically as if the light might disappear if they slowed down even the tiniest bit. He groped for something to hold onto in the darkness. His hands found a wooden crate and he grasped onto it with all his strength, which he realized wasn't much. His initial fear of waking up in the dark moving box had left him weak and wobbly. The sounds of grating metal became unbearable and, every so often, he saw little red sparks ignite as the box raced skyward. The box was getting close to the top; only a few hundred feet away now. Almost there …3…2…1

At the last second, he let go of the crate and covered his face in his hands, squatting into a tight ball to protect his organs. If this infernal box didn't kill him, it certainly seemed bloody determined to beat him up as much as possible before it reached the top.

The box came to a sudden and violent halt, throwing Newt to the floor. His body bounced off the cool metal and he grunted in pain, his shoulder instantly throbbing. Massive doors overhead squealed open and Newt was hit with by warm rays of sunlight. Instinctively, he brought his hands to his eyes and cursed under his breath. _What the bloody hell was going on here?_ The intense sunlight was so starkly opposite from the blackness he'd woken to that he'd realized it took him a full two minutes before he pulled his hands away. When he finally did though, he was surprised by the sight.

Three rough looking boys stared down at him. None of them were smiling but they weren't necessarily scowling either. They simply looked at him with odd curiosity. They were all wearing versions of the same outfit; blue, black, or white tee-shirts and beige cargo pants. One boy had a large bandage covering his right elbow and another had thin wire-rimmed glasses perched on the edge of his nose. None of them looked to be related or even friends, for that matter. The first boy, who looked the oldest although not by much, was a Hispanic kid with a strong build and short, wiry hair that curled into coils. The second boy had dark, chocolate skin and just the slightest bit of stubble growing on his chin. Finally, the third boy was Caucasian, like Newt was himself, but sported a dark tan. He had a large nose which resembled a melon and looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else the whole entire world than standing here staring at Newt.

A few seconds passed and Newt coughed just to break the silence. Was he supposed to do something? Say something?

"Well, you got anything to say for yourself Greenie?" said the Hispanic boy, raising an eyebrow.

"I … Um" Newt stammered.

He got the feeling as though these boys were looking to him for some sort of explanation. "I … Uh … I don't know! I can't remember! Why can't I remember? Who are you guys?"

"Whoa!" said the Caucasian kid. He looked surprised, like Newt had just grown horns or something. He motioned at the other two boys. "You hear his voice? Hey Greenbean, what's wrong with your voice?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me" he said unkindly. "Why are you talking so funny? You forget how many letters were in the alphabet?" He waited for Newt to respond. When Newt didn't, assuming the question was rhetorical, he said, "There's twenty-six, by the way … twenty-six letters in the alphabet, you moron" adding in that last unnecessary insult under his breath. "Where are you from? Who sent you here?" The boy started berating him with questions although, to Newt, they sounded more like accusations. He panicked a little knowing that he couldn't answer this boy's questions; any of them. His mind was still a terrible, foggy mess. If 'melon nose' didn't get the answers he was looking for would he throw Newt back down the box hole? Sure … he could already tell 'melon nose' was an absolute prick, but was he enough of a prick to constitute potential murder?

"Gally, knock it off! He doesn't know anything. No reason to traumatize the kid any more than necessary. You know what it's like coming out of that box" the Hispanic boy said again in a disapproving tone. Newt had the impression that this was the guy running the joint. He straightened out his glasses and tried to smile at Newt. The smile didn't come off as genuine but it beat staring at Gally's accusatory expression.

The boy pointed at himself and said "I'm George, this is Alby" he pointed to the dark skinned boy "and that's Gally" he finished, pointing at Gally who sneered in Newt's direction. "Sorry we have to meet like this but that's life … and ain't life just a bitch."

"Now, let's get you out of that God-forsaken box."


	3. Chapter 3 - Mystery Of The Maze

**Chapter 3: Mystery Of The Maze**

"Alby, give him a hand."

On George's command, Alby jumped down into the box. He didn't say anything, just extended his hand toward Newt. In fact, Alby had yet to say anything since this whole ordeal began. He was unusually quiet, almost stoic. Newt just stared at the open palm uneasily, still unsure about whether to trust these boys. What if he took the hand and Alby sucker punched him in the jaw? Next thing he knew, he could be hanging upside down over an open fire pit or strapped to a wooden pole in some crazy human sacrifice. He didn't trust them at all.

"Look, you going to take the hand or not?" Alby barked.

Against his better judgement, Newt took Alby's hand. The minute he stood up though, his legs buckled and he crumpled into a mass on the box floor. He heard Gally snickering quietly above him. Humiliated, he pressed his palm's to the floor and shakily got to his feet again, ignoring Alby's outstretched hand the second time. If he was going to survive this, he had to show them he wasn't weak.

Once on his feet, Newt realized that he'd clearly miscalculated the depth of the box. His head didn't even hit the halfway mark and Alby gave him a boost so George and Gally could each grab a forearm to drag him out. He stood up and gave George a half-hearted 'thank you'. Turning to say the same to Gally, he stopped … speechless.

He blinked a few times, trying to register exactly what he was seeing. Looming before him, hundreds and hundreds of feet high was a mammoth wall covered in dense ivy. It towered so tall that Newt couldn't see the sky beyond nor could he understand how a structure that giant could stand erect. He gaped at it, feeling the weight of the world crushing in on him. Even after craning his neck all the way back, he could just barely see the top. It was an overwhelming sight; so colossal that it was somehow beautiful and terrifying at the same time. He turned to ask George what it was when he noticed that it was not just one wall standing tall but four walls encasing them in a sort of cube. They were surrounded by the giant stone fortress, trapped by it. _Trapped_

That word hit Newt in the chest like a bullet. He needed to get out; needed to be free. Rationally, he knew that he was in no immediate danger. Neither George, Alby, nor Gally seemed frantic or frightened, so why should he? But, he couldn't help the gradual claustrophobia that set in looking at those walls. He needed to escape.

Reading Newt's mind, Gally said "Don't even think about it, Greenie." He put a firm hand on Newt's shoulder. "We're not letting you go anywhere. It's for your own good." Whether it was meant to or not, that definitely sounded like a threat to Newt.

"Let go!" Newt yelled, throwing Gally's hand off and wrenching his body around to face the boys again. None of them looked surprised to see him so alarmed. Alby even looked mildly concerned.

"Just calm down, okay?" said George. He reached his hand out to Newt in a passive gesture.

 _Calm down, Calm down, Calm down, Calm down_

The mantra he'd recited in the box came flooding back, making him all the more frightened. He raised his hands into fists, ready to strike the first person who made a step towards him.

"Hey, what's your name?" this was Alby speaking.

"What?" The question caught Newt by surprise and he furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Your name?" Alby asked again. "Look, I know you remember at least that much. It's the only thing those bastards let us keep."

Newt knew what Alby was doing, his memory may have been a complete blank slate but he wasn't stupid. He knew that Alby was trying to distract him; get him to talk so he'd lower his guard. The look on Alby's face was much different than the cold mask of indifference he'd been wearing only a few minutes earlier. His tone made Newt feel slightly calmer, although not calm enough to lower his fists. George still stood with his hand outstretched and Gally looked poised to tackle Newt to the ground if need be.

He decided to throw them a bone. There were plenty of reasons to keep secrets from these strangers but he figured it wouldn't hurt to give them his name, at the least.

"Newt … my name's Newt."

Alby looked at him funny like he wasn't sure if Newt was telling him the truth.

"Yeah, I know. It's a little unusual" Newt said, getting slightly defensive. "Not sure you should be one to judge though … Alby."

Alby almost smirked. "Okay, Newt it is. Listen … Don't freak out, alright?" Alby said, his voice once again taking on the tone as if he were talking to a frightened child or a wounded animal. "It doesn't help and it sure as hell doesn't make this any easier to understand." He gestured to the walls surrounding them. "Look, I know you're scared. It's okay to be scared. No shame in that." As he was talking, Newt noticed that Alby was slowly inching closer to him. Newt took a step back and Alby stopped.

"Just give us a chance to explain, yeah? Nobody's out to hurt you."

"Bullsh …" Before Newt even had the chance to finish; Alby leaped forward, knocking Newt to the ground.

"Bloody hell!" Newt yelled, wrestling with Alby who pinned Newt's right arm behind his back. They rolled over twice, and then once more in the opposite direction. Both were panting and sweating, viciously wailing on the other. Newt threw a punch and missed, swinging into empty air. Alby on the other hand was a much better aim. He used his elbow to pin Newt's bicep down and then straddled his waist preparing to clout him in the ear. Alby landed two strong swings to the side of Newt's face causing him to cough up blood. Another punch to the face and Newt felt his bottom lip split. Just as it seemed that Alby clearly had gained the upper hand, Newt freed his left arm and hurled it toward Alby's jaw. This time he didn't miss. Alby grunted in surprise and Newt cursed loudly, thinking that he probably just broke his bloody hand. Apparently, no one from his previous life had ever taught him how to properly fight. Newt managed to scramble free of the chaos and got to his feet just in time to see Gally's fist closing in, practically in slow motion. He couldn't stop it; couldn't move fast enough but it didn't matter. One second he was watching his world collapse around him and the next, he was being knocked back into the black oblivion.


	4. Chapter 4 - Let's Talk

**Chapter 4: Let's Talk**

The back of his skull was throbbing so harshly he felt it pound behind his eyelids and in his eardrums. He rolled onto his side and tried to sit up but the more he moved, the more it throbbed, so Newt just laid back down giving up the effort. He knew he was outside; he could feel a mound of dirt cradling his head which he let loll to the side, trying to avoid any sunlight that might intensify his pounding headache. He also heard the sounds of crickets chirping and felt the dewy moisture of the earth beneath him. A few minutes passed before a small bug tried to crawl its way into his ear canal.

"UGH!" Newt yelped, swatting at his face and sitting up suddenly; headache be damned! He opened his eyes to see a little black beetle scuttling away quickly. Newt stuck his tongue out at the little insect and ran both hands over his face again just to make sure there weren't any more trying to make a home inside his ears.

"How you feeling?" a voice said from above him.

Newt opened his eyes to see Alby squatting a few feet above his head. He looked relieved to see Newt awake and conscious.

"What's going on?" Newt demanded. "Where am I? What is this bloody place?" He looked around and realized that he was sitting in some type of prison cell. It was a small rectangular hole dug into the ground about six or seven feet deep. If he stood up, he figured his head would just about brush the top of the hole which was covered in lattice style bars made from thick pieces of bark.

Alby chuckled softly. "You want it literally or figuratively?"

"How about both, doesn't look like I'll be going anywhere anytime soon." Newt stood up and grasped the bars between his fingers. The wooden bars felt surprisingly strong and the hole didn't allow for much movement, so naturally, it seemed pretty suited to the task of keeping Newt under control. The thing was, he didn't really feel angry anymore, he just felt confused and scared.

"Literally, you're in what we call the slammer. It's kind of like our jail. You like?" Alby asked smirking. Newt starred daggers at the boy in response.

"Figuratively … I'd say you're in Hell."

"Brilliant" Newt said dryly, sitting back down. He knew that Alby was joking; knew there had to be some kind of reasonable explanation to all this madness but a part of him actually felt that maybe, in some alternate universe, he was dead. Just maybe, he's kicked the bucket and was both figuratively and literally in Hell. Although, he always imagined Hell as more of a scorched wasteland and much more unpleasant than his immediate surrounding. Currently, the temperature hung around a breezy 70 degrees and there was quite a bit more greenery than Newt supposed would be able to survive in the fiery pits of the Devil's liar.

"So …" Newt said, gazing up at Alby through the zig-zagged rays of sunlight.

"So?"

Newt sighed heavily. "So … what was up with all the Chuck Norris shit back there?" He touched his lip gingerly, winced, and then wiped a clump of dried blood off his chin.

"What?" Alby said, wrinkling his brow in confusion. "Who the hell's Chuck Norris?"

Newt stopped, looking at Alby for a long moment. _Wait, who was Chuck Norris?_ he thought. The name rolled off his tongue with such familiarity yet when he tried to place the name to a face, he came up completely blank.

"Whatever … Doesn't matter." Newt said impatiently, his cheeks flushing slightly although he wasn't sure why.

"Geez! Man up, Greenie" Alby said, rolling his eyes. "You're going to have to deal with a lot bigger and badder boo-boo's than that if you want to survive here. Plus, I didn't even hit you that hard."

Newt thought Alby really needed to re-evaluate his definition of the word 'hard' but he decided to let it go. Besides, Alby was probably right. The last thing he needed was to be perceived as a baby. He already assumed he was the youngest, no need to let these boys think he was also weak and co-dependent. Newt touched his bloody lip again and was positive that he'd gotten the brunt of the brawl yet if he looked closely enough, he could just make out a light bruise forming high on Alby's cheekbone. He inwardly smiled.

"We needed to make sure you weren't going to hurt yourself or anyone else" Alby offered. "You had that manic deer in the headlights look. The last time I saw that look, Gally almost ripped my throat out with a spearhead" he finished, looking at Newt like he expected him to understand what all that meant.

"What?!" Newt said, angrily. "Look, you attacked me first! Unprovoked, I might add!"

"It's just a precaution, Greenie" Alby said, pulling a crude wooden key out of his pocket. I know how terrifying it is coming out of that box with no memory of where you are or where you've been. It's easy to get violent." Alby spoke as if he knew how Newt was feeling; knew how discombobulating it all felt. And then it hit Newt …

"Wait?" he said, piecing the puzzle together slowly. "You came up through the box too?"

"Yep, we all did … Me, George, Gally, and now you."

Newt's mind was spinning. Obviously, someone or something was sending them up to this place. Had they all committed some heinous crime to get them imprisoned in this gigantic field? Was this punishment for some past crime? Again, a need for answers surged through him. Newt couldn't remember anything about himself but he was getting the sense that, if nothing else, he was a fairly intelligent and inquisitive person. He needed answers.

"Let me out of here" Newt said suddenly; firmly. He tried to keep his voice calm and show Alby that he was no threat. He stood up and raised his open palms up to Alby in a conciliatory gesture.

"Huh?" Alby looked skeptical, like he thought Newt might be playing some kind of trick on him.

"Look, just let me out. Please!" Newt said again. "I'm not a threat to you and we both know you can easily kick my ass."

"I CAN easily kick your ass, Greenie" Alby said, puffing his chest up like a blowfish. "Who taught you how to fight? Your freaking grandmother?"

Newt smiled, equal parts amusement and sadness. "Probably … and so what? Fighting may not be my strong suit but I'm sure I can be helpful in other ways. Give me a chance to prove it." When Alby didn't budge, Newt said "Come on, do I really look harmful to you?"

Newt was clearly the smallest of the group, not in height so much but in build. Newt had a lean thin frame and closely resembled a tall blond beanpole.

"Fine, but you try anything and you're toast. Got it?" Alby said.

"Toast, got it."

Without another word, Alby put the crude key into a crude lock and opened the barred door to the slammer. As Newt pulled himself out, he tried to prepare for the certainly bizarre things he was about to hear.


	5. Chapter 5 - What Lurks In The Darkness

**Chapter 5: What Lurks In The Darkness**

Alby had agreed to show Newt around the vast expanse of landscape, after minimal prodding on Newt's part. As difficult as it was, he refrained from asking a million questions as Alby pointed spot after spot out to Newt … the gardens, the animal pens, a makeshift kitchen, and a ramshackle wooden hut which Alby called "The Homestead". When he had first let Newt out of the slammer, he seemed as amicable as ever; talking, laughing, and even making a few jokes at Newt's expense but after twenty minutes or so he became unusually quiet and distracted. His sentences became shorter; his explanations more vague and he kept glancing around nervously as though he were anticipating an impending attack. They continued walking in uneasy silence, circling the wide open field encased by the massive walls, which Alby had referred to as "The Glade".

"Alby?" Newt said finally, unable to take the abrupt and awkward silence any longer. He leaned his head left and right trying to catch Alby's gaze. It was like Alby no longer even realized Newt was there; standing two feet in front of him. Alby had completely become lost within his own thoughts. His eyebrows creased into a frown and he looked worried, nervous even as he stared at the far gargantuan wall. Newt's eyes followed Alby's gaze to the West wall. He didn't know how exactly, something about how the sun rises and sets, but he knew that he was looking to the West where he saw something he hadn't noticed before; a big gaping hole right in the middle of the wall; almost like … a door.

"What the hell?" Newt said, slightly picking up his pace and squinting at the giant door. As he turned around, he noticed that all four of the walls had these seemingly impossible doors built right into the center. He couldn't see very well, the hazy glow of mid-afternoon was already beginning to darken the sky, but he swore he saw movement behind the West door. Movement!? Was this their way out … their escape? He continued moving toward the closest one, picking up speed with each step, when he felt a heavy hand on his elbow pulling him back.

"Shhh" Alby hissed, putting his free hand to his mouth and tapping his index finger against his own lips. He stepped in front of Newt, his eyes fixated on the door, which seemed small compared to the width of the rest of the wall although Newt assumed the door itself was most likely 500 to 600 feet wide, and three times as tall.

"Alby, what are you looking at?"

"Shut up, okay? Just shut up a second!" Alby barked suddenly. All traces of the boy from a half hour earlier were gone and Newt was beginning to feel the whiplash of Alby's ever changing mood swings. He looked poised for either one of two options … fight or flight. Although, Newt couldn't make out one from the other. Out of his peripheral vision, Newt saw George and Gally standing in the middle of the Glade, close to the box he'd entered through, also gazing rigidly at the West wall. Newt couldn't see anything. Hell! … he didn't even know what he was supposed to be looking at?!

In less than a second, all the remaining patience Newt possessed quickly dissolved into a pool of anger. "Alby … enough with the bloody secrets! I want real answers and I want …" Newt began, louder than he'd meant to, but before he could even finish his sentence, Alby turned on him and clamped a hand over his mouth dragging him over to a nearby oak tree, out of view of the giant door.

"Dammit Greenie!" Alby whisper-yelled. "When I say shut up, you shut the hell up! No questions asked, yeah? I think there's a Griever out there."

Newt wanted to be scared; knew that he should be scared judging by Alby's expression but his curiosity was insatiable. "Griever? What's a Griever?" he asked, pushing Alby's hand away from his mouth and leaning back around the tree for a better look. Alby made an aggravated sound and used his forearm to pin Newt back up against the trunk, his elbow digging forcefully into Newt's collarbone. "Not another word" he threatened harshly, putting a warning finger in between Newt's eyes. "You don't understand yet" Alby said, visibly shaken. "We were lucky; George and I were lucky to make it back in time … to make it back with our lives. That … that thing" he continued, his voice tripping over every word "… is a monster. It's a hellish nightmare. So when I say keep your mouth shut, I'm not yanking your chain. I'm trying to keep you alive."

Newt closed his eyes for just a second. He understood now that whatever was outside those doors was in no way a game; nor was it a rescue. He nodded to Alby and bit harshly on his bottom lip. Alby nodded back but didn't release any pressure off of Newt's collarbone.

George jogged quietly over to them with Gally right at his heels.

"What do you think?" George said to Alby, his eyes bulging a little. "Never seen one this close to the doors before … looks like it's just watching us." Newt could tell George was uneasy. He didn't look quite as frightened as Alby and Gally but he sure as hell didn't look comfortable either.

George inched closer to the creature; cupping his hand into a ball and motioning for the rest of the boys to follow. They walked quietly, clinging to the walls and hiding in the shadows of late afternoon as if they were trying to sneak up on a skittish deer. As they crept closer, Newt began to decipher the creature's shape and soon realized it sure as shit wasn't any Bambi. It was goliath!

No matter how hard he tried to remember, this creature didn't bear the slightest resemblance to any animal Newt had ever seen, much less heard of. It was awkward, swollen, and protruding in all the wrong places. He could also tell that the monster was slathered in some kind of slimy residue; not because he could see it but because he could _hear_ it. Every time the thing moved, Newt could hear the popping and squelching of flesh against its thick, gooey coating. The sound alone made him sick to his stomach. He could only imagine the rancid bile that would force its way back up his stomach if he were standing face to face with the grotesque monster; despite his having yet to eat since arriving at the Glade. Cautiously, Newt leaned away from the wall just enough to see something glint on the monster's body, under the dull light of the moon. It was shiny, elongated, and looked oddly metallic. Metallic?

Tipping the scale between curious and reckless, Newt ventured even further from the wall. He squinted his eyes; determined to understand what made this creature so terrifying when the bulbous head of the monster turned toward him with amazing speed. It didn't have much of a face; just deep crevices where it's eyes were supposed to be and a horrific gaping mouth lined with what looked like the blades off an industrial sized chainsaw. Newt didn't have time to react other than trip over his own two feet and go toppling into a heap on the dirt. He was beyond terrified … almost completely paralyzed with fear. Every sound buzzed in his ears and every breath felt as though it were being exhaled in slow motion.

The creature lurched this time, throwing its front legs into the air. But as soon as it did, Newt noticed that 'legs' was not precisely the right word for what he saw. He was, in fact, correct in assuming that the creature was part flesh … part metallic. Where its legs should have been, there protruded a long, jagged blade which looked as though 100 swords had been welded together to create the horrific appendage. The other 'leg' was composed of a huge piece of pipe with multiple saws running up its length.

Soon, the monster was back on all fours; its metallic pincher's, saws, and blades spinning to life with an alarming ferocity.

Newt felt hands under his armpits, dragging him backwards. He latched on tightly and dug his heels into the ground trying to help propel himself away from this living nightmare. The creature continued to move forward; its entire body making that vomit-inducing sound as its slimy exterior connected with every stone. Newt couldn't discern reality from the imaginary anymore. He had to be hallucinating; his whole body felt on fire!

Just as the creature was about to breach the entrance of the Glade and Newt was positive this was how his life would end; bloody, empty, and hopeless … the monstrous thing stopped as though it were being pulled back by some inaudible command. Without warning or reason, it slowly began to retreat; backing away one gruesome limb at a time. It thrashed occasionally, like it was fighting an invisible force neither Newt nor any of the other boys could see. Step by step it retreated until, finally, it turned a corner at the end of the long corridor and vanished.

Not a minute later, the loudest possible rumble, like the sound of an earthquake, set in on the Glade as all four mammoth doors began to close for the night. Watching doors the size of skyscrapers move so fluidly sent mixed emotions coursing through Newt's veins. It was a confining and claustrophobic sight but at the same time relieving,

Newt inhaled, then exhaled, inhaled, then exhaled …

He faintly heard voices behind him, frantic and frenzied.

"Newt?"

Newt looked over to see George breathing heavily, Alby hunched with his hands on his knees, and Gally, sitting on the ground; a few tears marking lines along the dirt in his face. Although, when he noticed Newt staring he quickly wiped them away and scowled.

"Newt, you alright?" George asked, putting a comforting hand on his back.

Newt tried to speak. He tried to force actual, coherent words into his brain and up through his mouth but as he opened his lips to reply, instead of words … all the fear, anger, hurt, and confusion bubbled up from his stomach until it landed in a messy pile of bile at his feet.


	6. Chapter 6 - How Do You Cope?

**Chapter 6: How Do You Cope?**

It was silent as the boys watched the doors of The Glade close behind them. Nobody looked at each other, spoke to each other, or even had the attentiveness to acknowledge each other. From a distance, it looked as if they all floated a few feet off the ground; lifeless and incoherent. George was the first to recover and, after helping Newt wipe the vomit off his face, told the boys it was probably safest to head back to the Homestead and turn in for the night.

They walked, exhaustion making their feet feel like blocks of cement. Once they reached the rickety front doors of the Homestead, Alby broke away from the others, circling around the left side of the building and motioning for Newt to follow. Newt eyed him suspiciously and then looked over his shoulder at George.

"Go on, Greenie" said George, shoving Newt in Alby's direction. "We've got some extra blankets and candles stored in a shed behind the Homestead. He just needs help carrying it all …" he finished.

Gally, picking up on Newt's uneasiness, said "Careful Greenbean, we also store the shovels and butcher knives back there … You're scrawny but we still gotta eat." He laughed unkindly.

"Really?" George reprimanded; his voice weary. "Quit being such a jackass."

Instead of looking back, Newt followed Alby to a small, slightly derelict shed a few hundred feet behind the Homestead. The shed had a 4-digit lock code on it; more sophisticated and modern than anything Newt had seen inside the Glade. He watched as Alby spun the numbers into place: 9253

When they entered, Newt was surprised to see a wide inventory of items. They ranged from knives and handmade spears, to salves and simple medical supplies, to pencils and parchment paper. He tripped over boxes of blankets and stumbled across all kinds of kitchen utensils. He rummaged through a jar of tiny needles and peered into a box of what looked to be running shoes. Newt picked up a sleek black pair and held one up to his foot. It seemed to be about the right size but he couldn't be sure.

"What is this place?" he said, trying to find Alby in the dimness of the little shed. He picked up a small Swiss Army knife and fingered the edge idly.

Newt heard Alby's voice echo behind him. "It's our survival shed; been here, fully stocked, since the beginning. Whoever dumped us here sends up necessary supplies every few weeks. We'd all be dead if it weren't for this little God send … kept us alive through cold nights and endless mosquito bites." Newt smiled, wondering if Alby heard the rhyme in his own words.

"That's pretty lucky" Newt said. "Where's it all come from?"

Alby laughed but there was no humor in it. "Not sure I'd necessarily call our situation lucky but it helps keep us going … keeps us from giving up."

"Giving up?"

Like a spooky apparition, Alby silently appeared behind Newt and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked sad; as sad as Newt had ever seen him. "It's not easy living here, you know?" Alby said, looking at him with a kind of conviction that broke Newt's heart.

"I can imagine."

"Give it a month and you won't need to imagine any more; you'll feel it. You'll understand."

Newt shook his head, not sure how to respond. He opened his mouth with the intention of apologizing, although he wasn't sure why but instead said "You called that creature a Griever? Why?"

Alby smiled. "You're pretty damn perceptive, Greenie."

"Thanks?"

"Came up with the name myself" Alby said, sitting down on an overturned crate. Newt sat down next to him; rubbing his hands together while blowing warmth into his palms. "First time I heard it, it was just George and myself in the Glade; Gally came through the box a few days later. We were in a real bad place back then. Neither of us had eaten in days. George was half crazy with hunger and loneliness, and I was too terrified to do anything but piss my pants and cry. If it weren't for that damn Griever, we would've died. We would've just lost the will to live."

Newt felt Alby sigh heavily and place his hand comfortingly on his friend's shoulder; urging him to continue.

"It was about the third day without food and water. I remember curling up into a ball and just saying a prayer. I'm not much religious but, in that moment, I cried out to heaven and just prayed for death. I was so tired, Newt." Alby put his hands up to his mouth. He laced his fingers so tightly that the knuckles turned red. "I just … I didn't want to live anymore. I couldn't …"

"What happened?"

Alby shook his head up and down a few times; like he was trying to both conjure and bury the memory at the same time. "We heard it; the Griever. I thought it was a dream at first …"

"A dream or a nightmare?" Newt said, remembering himself how the Griever had sounded.

"A nightmare" Alby agreed. "It kept making this sound; this horrible terrible sound. It sounded like …" Alby took a second to compose himself. "It sounded like a woman. She was screaming; crying maybe? I couldn't pinpoint it exactly but it just sounded like unimaginable grief; like the grief of losing someone you love … someone you can't live without. It was awful; practically unbearable, you know? I tried covering my ears but there was something about that sound that knocked me awake. It drew me out of the pit." Alby recovered from the daze of his recollection. He looked up. "In hindsight, it was probably just delirium that was causing the sound but I'd never heard grief like that before in my life."

Newt pieced Alby's story together. "Grief … Grievers?"

"Yeah" Alby said.

Newt couldn't ever remember being so lost; so sad that he'd just wanted to give up and die. "How do you cope?" he asked, looking at Alby. "How do you manage to keep going?"

Alby just shrugged. "It's either keep going or die. You have to choose if life is worth it; especially this life."

There was a long moment of silence. "Hey, what the hell is taking so damn long?" Gally stomped down the stairs and found both Newt and Alby still sitting on the crate. "You wanted some quality time alone, all you had to do was ask."

"Shut up" said Alby, standing to collect their items. Newt stood as well and grabbed the pair of running shoes he'd taken earlier. Coughing to grab Alby's attention, he held them up in a 'Can I have a pair?' gesture.

"Fine by me" said Alby, seemingly fully recovered, as if the anguish of the last ten minutes never even happened. Newt was beginning to see that memories, no matter how painful, were sometimes best left buried in the past.

As they exited the shed, Alby relocked the door and they both trailed Gally back to the Homestead.

"I don't know about you, but I need a damn drink" said Gally. He walked over to a small dresser, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a hefty glass jar filled with brown liquid. It looked like sewer water and, when Gally unscrewed the lid, smelled even worse. Ignoring looks of disgust, Gally tipped the jar up to his lips and took a long swig of the nasty liquid. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, belched, and then handed the jar to George who looked at it with contempt.

"Where in the world did you get this?" George asked. He seemed shocked, like he'd always thought Gally incapable of this level of deception. The jar was already half empty which meant that he'd been sneaking off to drink alone. George tentatively took a sip and then started coughing violently.

Gally laughed. "I asked for it" he answered; looking at George like he'd just asked him why the sky was blue or why the sun was hot. Gally took the jar back from George and swallowed another mouthful.

"You what?" George asked, confused.

"I … ASKED … FOR … IT" Gally said again, over enunciating every word and motioning wildly with his hands; as if the boys were all suddenly deaf.

"How is that possible?" Alby asked, standing and walking over to Gally, who had moved to lean against the dresser. He gulped again.

"Threw a note down the box hole after I arrived; thought we were all screwed anyway so figured why not go down in a haze of glory …" Gally blinked rapidly and took yet another drink; his eyes glazing over. "After the shit we've been through today, I felt generous enough to share." He smiled, showing a line of crooked yellow teeth.

Alby was fuming. Newt didn't even have to look at him to know that he was shaking with rage. He could sense Alby bouncing on his heels; clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Dammit Gally!" he exploded. "Do you realize what this means? After everything we've been through over the past three months, you can't tell the rest of us that they take freaking requests?! You could have asked for anything and you ask for booze?" Gally looked completely unbothered by Alby's outburst. He rolled his eyes and took another drink.

"Piss off!" Gally said, shoving past Alby and striding over to Newt. "Bottom's up, Greenie" he said, thrusting the jar at Newt. The smell was so rancid that it made his eyes burn.

"No thanks …"

"Drink it, you giant baby!"

"I said I didn't want it." Newt put his hand on Gally's and shoved as hard as he could. Gally stumbled back a few feet but recovered quickly, his face red with anger and too much alcohol. "Just take it easy, alright?" Newt continued, trying to diffuse the tension in the room.

Gally was anything but placated. In fact, he looked even angrier than a few seconds earlier. "For Christ's sake!" he yelled, stomping the floor like a toddler. "Just take a damn drink!"

He rushed Newt, closing the distance between them in three long strides. Newt was on his feet in an instant but Gally had already shoved him in the chest, throwing him back to the floor and pinning his hands behind his back. He straddled Newt, their faces uncomfortably close, and turned the jar up to Newt's mouth, forcing his lips open. Newt tried jerking his head to the side but Gally had his free hand clamed around Newt's chin preventing any movement. He was dumping the sour alcohol down Newt's throat faster than he could swallow and large streams of it fell over the corners of his mouth and soiled his shirt. Newt just briefly caught a glimpse of Alby and George, both wrestling Gally's hands away from Newt's face. George got a hold of Gally's left arm was able to pull him off of Newt enough for him to make his move. With their noses almost touching, Newt reared back and head-butted Gally right between the eyes. He felt dizzy and his nose was, no doubt, bleeding but it was all worth it when Gally fell back in pain, clutching his own misshapen nose.

"What the hell is the matter with you?!" Newt screamed. He took off toward Gally at a run but Alby quickly intercepted before Newt could reach his target. Alby tried to restrain him, but he was livid; adrenaline surging through him like a tsunami.

"Why are you such a bloody head case?! You're mental, you hear me? Mental!" Newt swung for Gally again and, despite all Alby's efforts, he landed a hard punch right to his kidney. He breathed heavily a few times. As the air filled his lungs, his anger began to dissipate as quickly as it had begun. He shook Alby off his shoulders.

"You want to know why I asked for alcohol?" Gally shouted, still as angry as ever. "Do you?!" he screamed again when no one answered.

"Why, Gally?" asked Newt, his voice calming to a whisper. He looked up at Gally and was unsurprised to see tears for what felt like the umpteenth time that day.

"I drink … and I fight … and I swear because …" he couldn't seem to finish his sentence.

"Because why, Gally?" Newt urged. "Why?"

Gally made a chocked guttural sound in the back of his throat. "I do it because _that's_ how I cope. I heard you and Alby in the shed, talking survival and all that bullshit. THIS …" he said, holding up the now empty liquor jar "THIS is how I cope. It's the only way I know how." Completely spent, Gally let his whole body go slack. He slumped to the ground taking George down with him.

Newt had never felt so many emotions in one day; all more extreme than the last. On a scale of 1-10, he peaked at a 20 and was feeling the crushing weight of the world on his shoulders. He stared at Gally, broken beyond repair, and realized that he was no bully. He was no tormentor and no tough guy. He was simply a child, like they all were … terrified, and tired, and longing for a life they never knew they had.


	7. Chapter 7 - New Beginnings

**Chapter 7: New Beginnings**

It had been weeks since Newt's arrival in the box, the near-death Griever attack, and the drunken brawl in the Homestead. He felt different; more mature and able to better understand his role within the Glade. George had placed him in charge of tending to the gardens. It wasn't a glamorous job but he enjoyed it nonetheless; getting his hands dirty made him feel like he was contributing. He'd found a machete in the shed, used a worn piece of leather to strap it to his back, and tied his hands up with ripped pieces of shirt fabric to prevent blisters. Noticing that many of the plants were failing to take root, he dug out an irrigation canal and fastened together long, thin pieces of bark to create vegetable stands for the tomato's and pepper's to grow. Every day, Newt tended to the plants; watering and plucking and pruning them into perfection.

"You sure got one hell of a green thumb, Greenie" George said one day, laughing at his own joke.

Over the last few weeks, each boy had taken it upon himself to clear the air and help rebuild their broken relationships. Gally, although still rude and aggressive, made a visible effort to be more helpful. He occasionally joined Newt for lunch and the two boys would walk around the Glade, swapping apples and stories.

"What are you working on over there?" Newt asked, pointing to a big pile of sawed off boards propped against the Homestead. It looked like Gally had blown out the right side of the wall and was nailing pieces of 2x4 together in an attempt to elongate the room.

"I'm trying to add more bedrooms" Gally said, looking over at the mess of construction tools. He held his thumb and forefinger up to the building, eyeballing the angles and overall straight lines of the addition. Personally, Newt thought it looked heavily crooked and warped but there was no way in hell he was going to tell Gally that, not after they'd worked so hard to mend their friendship. Truthfully, that house could collapse on top of him and he'd still blame it on a freak accident before a design flaw.

"Looks good" Newt said, avoiding eye contact. He was a terrible liar.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Now that they were able to request supplies from the box, Newt had asked for a gardening satchel. It came up a few days later and he primarily used it to collect herbs and hold his tools when out in the fields, but today he'd packed it full of fresh peaches. He pulled one out and tossed it to Gally.

"How's the um … garden thing?" asked Gally awkwardly, waving his hand over at Newt's tomato plants. Newt bit his lip to keep from laughing. Unlike Alby and George, who made casual chatting so easy, it was like pulling teeth to get Gally to small talk. He'd grown so used to talking with fists and insults that Newt couldn't help but smirk. He appreciated Gally's effort; no matter how pathetic.

"It's good, man!" Newt said; glad to have something to talk about … "I was able to double our growth by putting up some chicken wire around the vegetable garden. We've got these weird little black beetles all over the place; burrowing into the soil and killing the plants. I've never been able to catch one but, you know, I swear I've seen their little eyes turn red a couple of times. It's really freaky. You ever see that?"

"Uhh …" Gally trailed off, taking a giant bite out of his peach. Newt waited for a response … nothing.

Alright … so much for small talk.

They'd been walking for about half an hour and were just circling back to the Homestead when, like the sound of the Glade doors closing, a loud blaring siren started emitting from somewhere inside the Glade. Newt turned in circles; frantically trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. It was incessant; beeping, and blaring, and crescendo-ing to a head splitting forte.

"Shit!" Gally said, suddenly very alert. He grabbed Newt's elbow and pulled him toward the center of the Glade; directly toward the box.

Newt shook his head; convinced the sound was coming from somewhere else. "It's not the box!" he yelled over the uproar.

"Yes, it is!" Gally yelled back, pulling harder on Newt's elbow. They spotted George and Alby coming from the other side of the field, running just as determinedly as Gally was himself.

"No, it isn't!" Newt insisted. "We've sent all kinds of requests down the box in the last few weeks and it's never made that sound before!"

Gally snorted; looking at Newt like he was both brilliant and stupid at the same time. "It's not supplies Greenie, trust me! It's something a lot more important than bed linen and bandages." By the time Gally had finished talking, they'd reached the box and there was no doubt in Newt's mind now that this was where the sound was originating from.

"How do you know?" Newt asked.

"Because Greenbean …" Gally said, staring down anxiously at the metal grate, "that was the same sound it made when _you_ came out of the box."


	8. Chapter 8 - The Newest Newbie

**Chapter 8: The Newest Newbie**

Everyone stared at the metal grate as it rumbled, sputtered, and blared; the elevator climbing its way to the top. Newt couldn't stop thinking about his own trip to the Glade; the agonizing terror of waking up in that cold, cramped shit hole. It sent goosebumps all the way up his spine and back down again. Nobody said anything as they watched; perhaps drowning in their own personal nightmares. Newt looked at George and saw his eyes completely unfocused. He'd never asked George exactly what it had been like arriving in The Glade. It went without saying that they had all been scared but, somehow, it was different for George. He'd been the first one … ever. He'd had to spend a whole month alone in the Glade and Newt, for all his intelligence and bravery, couldn't possibly imagine the strength that must have taken. Newt respected George more than he would ever know.

Finally, the box reached the top. They heard it settle; the hinges latching into place. "You think it's another boy?" asked Alby, squatting down and grabbing one side of the lift gate.

"Can't imagine otherwise …" said George, moving to the opposite end of the gate and grabbing the handle. "They've been sending us up like clockwork every month."

"That's not what I meant."

George scoffed, "Ha! Don't get your hopes up, kid." He started to pull upwards on the handle. "They're not sending us a girl."

Alby smiled; he pulled up on his own side and together they opened the box doors. When the light from the Glade reached down into the pit of the box, the small figure inside darted behind a large chest. "Hey, come on out" said George, trying to find a good angle in which to get a better look at the boy.

"Fat chance!" said the kid, shimmying behind the chest before darting behind a brown barrel. He was lightning fast and moved with all the grace of a cheetah. Newt could see a little bit of dark hair, almost black, and the outline of a shoulder. George looked to the others, looked down into the box, and then said "Anyone want to hop down there and get him out?"

"Don't look at me" shouted Alby, taking a step back. He gestured to Newt and said, "I dragged this one out of the box. I'll be damned if I get back in there anytime soon." All the boys looked at Newt, their minds seemingly made up.

"Bloody hell" Newt sighed under his breath. He sat down on the edge of the box and let his feet dangle over the side. The kid didn't make a move but, from this angle, Newt could definitely tell the boy was slightly darker skinned and athletically built. He kept his face hidden. "Hey, I'm coming down, okay?" Newt said, slowly lowering his body into the pit; and then as an afterthought shouted, "Don't hit me."

He felt his foot touch a wobbly crate and before he could find his balance, the boy dashed out from behind the barrel and tackled Newt to the floor. Ninja quick, he immobilized Newt and placed a hand over his mouth. Newt squirmed but gave up after a few seconds; he'd have to let George, Alby, and Gally do the negotiations from here on out.

"Take it easy" said George, raising his hands submissively.

"You take it easy!" the kid shouted back angrily.

Newt watched the whole thing play out like a bad episode of déjà vu. The boy asked where he was, and who they were, and how he'd gotten there; spitting profanities like they were sunflower seeds. George did his best to explain everything in as much detail as he possibly could but, regrettably, when the boy was unsatisfied with George's answer, he thought roughing Newt up would help the situation; even slapped him at one point.

"Jesus!" Newt cried out, shoving the kid lightly. "Watch it! I'm not your bloody punching bag!" Newt did his best to resist fighting back. He more than understood the kid was scared and this act of bravado was the only way for him to maintain control. He was about 99.9% positive the boy wouldn't actually hurt him but hoped that, in the event he was wrong, the other boys would be able to move fast enough to stop it.

"So you're serious?" the kid said. He stood up, brushed off his knees, and released his hands from Newt's shirt collar. "You mean, you don't know where we are either?"

"We call it the Glade" said Alby.

The boy took a long second to think everything through; then said, "Well … butter my buns and call me a biscuit. This is freaking nuts!" Newt chocked down a laugh.

"Yep, pretty crazy" Alby agreed, also swallowing a smile. He crouched down, trying to regain a look of authority. "What's your name, kid?"

The boy scrunched his forehead up and put his hands to his temples. He looked like he was either very constipated or thinking extremely hard. "Ummm …" he said, his face contorting into every physical expression of confusion imaginable.

"You don't remember?" asked George.

"Shut up!" the boy yelled, like it had been right on the tip of his tongue, and George had someone made it disappear with his interruption. "Can't you see I'm thinking! Ummm … ummm …" He conveyed one more painful look of constipation before shouting, "Minho!"

"Mean Hoe?" asked Alby, articulating every vowel. Something about the way Alby said Minho's name made Gally chuckle; his 16 year old self unable to contain the fits of laughter.

"Something funny, ass face?!" shouted Minho. He rose up on his toes and puffed out his chest, trying to make himself appear more domineering. Newt saw him curl his hands into fists.

"Whoa!" Newt said, taking a tentative step away from Minho. He looked up at the other boys and said, "Since I'm the only one standing within punching distance, let's try not to royally piss off the new kid, shall we?"

"Minho …" Minho said, his head snapping to Newt.

"Sorry"

Newt took a moment to size Minho up; his boisterous personality already disrupting their dynamic. He was definitely talkative; that being clear from the moment the box doors opened. His skin was also honey colored. He looked Asian, maybe Korean? He had an athletic build and was wicked fast on his feet; even now bouncing from foot to foot like his energy couldn't be contained to standing still. Newt could see dimples in the middle of his cheeks that, no doubt, doubled in depth when he smiled and his eyes burned with boyish mischief.

"Need help getting out?" Newt asked, extending his hand toward Minho. He smiled kindly.

Minho swatted Newt's hand away, smirked, and then, using every barrel and crate like a Chinese acrobat pole, hoped gracefully out of the box.

"Well … butter my buns and call me a biscuit" Newt mimicked, watching Minho cavort his way out of the hole. " _THIS_ is going to be interesting."


End file.
